Page 26 of Death By Chocolate

“I for damn sure, don’t want to piss you off. What the fuck did he do?” Did I hear him right? I try to bite back a laugh and fail.

“Oscar was an evil prick. He kidnapped me from my home in New Orleans on my sixteenth birthday,” I confess. More laughter bubbles up inside me. When Xeno lifts me up, turning me to face him, I go willingly. I love how small and delicate he makes me feel. How he handles me without asking for consent because he knows he has my complete trust, I think it pleases him.

“Fucker,” he hisses. “Lucky, my sexy bitch spared him ever meeting my sword. Tell me the rest. And it’s not to judge your decisions, ma cherie. I want to know you, want more time with you. I—” he paused. “I want to love you. My parents were fucked up. The first thing I did when I was strong enough to defend myself against my father was to smash his fists with a hammer. Now, he hits no one. Whatever you did to survive, it was the best choice because we’re here. So tell me all your secrets, ma cherie…’Cause for you I’ll dig graves and drop the bodies.”

He waits, and sincerity shines back at me through his eyes. His response - offering to dig graves and drop bodies - should terrify me. Instead, it feels like absolution.

This is the first time I tell anyone about Oscar, about the ring that came before. My five years in hell. A decade ago, when I arrived in D.C. covered in bruises, Silvio knew better than to ask. I talk well into the night about the Hernandez-Dominguez family, my parents, my father’s business, my ambitions to be his second in command, the meal that saved my life, the stuff I tookfrom the safe, how my family home, mom’s bake shop had been sold a few months after I was taken. My family had vanished. His expression darkens as I divulge more of my past. When I mention Friend, and the vile things Oscar did to me with his pet reptile, Xeno holds me. So, this is what sharing, having a partner who gives a shit, feels like? When I’m done, he gestures to the ring on my finger.

“You keeping it?”

“Yes,” I swallow, understanding his real question. Am I throwing him away, refusing his commitment to us? No, I’m not. I’m in too deep. I want to be his, so tell him the only way I know how. “People like us break things,” I whisper. “Don’t break me, Xeno.”

He captures my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes. The intensity there steals my breath. I want to hide my shame, my guilt. He won’t allow it.

“You and me, we don’t break, Dani. We destroy what is broken. Some monsters have to be slaughtered.” His grin is cruel and sexy, and I love it. “You sure you want me?”

In his eyes, I see my past reframed - not as shameful secrets that make me unworthy of love, but as proof of my strength, my will to survive. Maybe that's what real love is - someone who looks at your darkest truths and shows you the light within them. “Ab-sol-lutely-fucking-positive,” I declare, “you’re the man I can’t help but want.”

As he pushes his dick inside me, his delicious girth stretching my sore pussy, he whispers. “Remember, you wanted me to ruin you.”

And our H.O.E phase continues in utter lunchtime fucking bliss until the day I return to the office.

12

XENO

X MARKS THE SPOT

It’s been two weeks since Dani and I first fucked each other senseless. Even now, strolling towards the security corridor where her office is located, I taste her sweet honey on my tongue. She’s back on the grind, attending management briefings and working with the rest of the team daily. I miss our days together without the wig, the Kelvar red and black uniform, and House watching behind her green contact lenses. I know she does, too. The stubborn woman will never admit she likes having me in her space. The grin that spreads across my face every time I see her twisting the ring—my ring—on her finger, more precious than platinum. She’s mine to protect. Whether she wants it or not, my presence in her life is permanent. That’s why I am accompanying her to the office, a reminder that I have every intention of returning to accompany her to the final medical visit with Youric.

The security office buzzes with morning activity when Dani and I enter the bullpen and open administrative space with tables, wall monitors, and a coffee station. We're both in good spirits, trading jabs about who outperformed the other duringour training session with Cookie. I like Cookie – she's sharp, competent, and almost sisterly in her affection for Dani. Rhys and two other guys I met last week, Torres and Chen, are gathered around the coffee dispenser, laughing. Which is why his sudden shift in demeanor catches my attention.

The moment Dani steps behind the podium at the center of the room, something changes. Rhys’s eyes lock on Dani, who's reviewing the day's security protocols before calling everyone to their seats. The smirk that crosses his face when he nudges Torres and Chen makes my stomach turn.

"Saw you working hard at cardio,” Rhys says, loud enough to carry. "Heard you've been getting quite the workout lately, Daniella.” He emphasizes her full name, a reminder of their past intimacy makes my jaw clench.

I watch Dani's shoulders tighten infinitesimally – a tell most wouldn't notice. But I know her body now, know how she carries tension, know the weight of the battles she's already fought. The way she squares her shoulders reminds me of that night she told me about Oscar, about learning young that no one would fight for her.

Torres snickers and Chen poorly disguises his laugh as a cough. The room's energy shifts, testosterone and unspoken challenges thickening the air.

"Better cardio than you ever managed, Rhys," Dani replies coolly, not looking up from her tablet. But I see the slight clenching in her fingers, the way she's gripping the device too tightly. She's used to this – the subtle degradation, the implications. She's probably handled worse with the same steely professionalism.

Rhys leans against the countertop, crossing his arms. "Just looking out for the team's interests now that there’s another way to get you out of your super suit. Gotta wonder if sleeping with the client affects decision-making. Remember how distractedyou used to get? Maybe you need me to hold your hand for your next dressing change?”

The tablet creaks in Dani's grip. She lifts her eyes, and the emptiness there – the carefully constructed wall she's built to survive moments exactly like this – something in me snaps.

Before I fully register moving, I have Rhys pinned against the wall, my fist driving into his jaw. The blow is a bell ringer. “X marks the spot, bitch ass fucker.”

Torres and Chen scatter like the vermin they are.

Rhys, he’s still hearing liberty bells, eyes rolled up under his eyelids. The way his knees buckle gives new meaning to the term punch drunk. My forearm across his throat is the only thing keeping him upright. The smirk has vanished from his face.

"Mr. Voss," Torres chokes out, formal now that his buddy is facing consequences.

"You ever disrespect her again," I say quietly, feeling the rapid pulse in Rhys’s throat against my arm, "and I'll make sure the only thing you’re guarding is your shit bag when I disembowel you. Are we clear?"

"Xeno." Dani's voice cuts through the red haze of my anger. "Let him go."

---